


Red or Blue?

by Broeckoli



Category: Little Witch Academia
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fascination, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, I think that's enough tags, Internal Conflict, Light Angst, Obsession, Oneshot, Past Relationship(s), Reflection, Resolution, Yuri, nvm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-25 11:46:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15640101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Broeckoli/pseuds/Broeckoli
Summary: For years Croix grew up with a fascination for the colour red, ignited by a certain, enthusiastic young witch. Even after everything fell apart and they grew distant and separated, those vibrant, red locks would haunt Croix's dreams and nightmares. But seeing her Chariot adorning longer, deep blue hair sparked something else in Croix, something which drove her further than she ever expected. Now, following the Noire Missile Crisis, Croix can no longer decide what she likes more...Red? Or Blue?





	Red or Blue?

**Author's Note:**

> My take on what happened between Episode 25 and the Epilogue, with my own ideas of how our Charoix pairing were in the past. I wanna also do a shout out to Akilice, who writes a heck of a lot of Charoix on FF.net as well as the creator of some damn good Charoix edits! You can find her content here: <http://akilice.tumblr.com/> and here <https://www.fanfiction.net/u/2619501/amal-rukia>
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

‘What is your favourite colour?’

Now usually this kind of question is pretty straightforward, with only the odd humming and hahring before you settled on a colour you most prefer. It was such an innocent, simple question to answer that, to ask it to try and start a conversation for instance, would be almost cringy to the average person...

...before they settled on yellow because it reminded them of bees, or green because they loved the way emeralds would stick out on jewellery gracing their ring finger.

But for Croix Meridies?

It was not that easy.

For years Croix grew up with a fascination for the colour red, ignited by a certain, enthusiastic young witch that wanted to break the norms and be someone so very, very different. To Croix, this aspiring witch with dashing, vibrant red hair would captivate every living moment of hers for the entirety of her days at Luna Nova. She would draw the Italian in, making her steal glances whenever she could when Croix did not yet know her, and melt into a soft, friendly girl when she would come up to her for group projects or ask for help on questions that seemed so simple to the lilac-haired, ambitious student.

Back then, the question on colour was very straightforward.

It was red. By a mile, it was red.

As the two grew into closer and closer friends, Croix learned to appreciate this ‘Chariot’ with an ever-growing passion, eclipsed only by her love for the hybridisation of science and magic. In that, the two could share something that divided them from the rest: the breaking of tradition and their alienation from most, if not all, the witches in the academy.

Croix was always kept at arm’s length by most of the students, who were always eager to be on her good side when it was time to ask her for help. Chariot however was not so fortunate. She was often teased and ridiculed for what she was doing, so much so that even her team-mates felt a little perturbed around her.

Seeing this, knowing of it, affected Croix immensely.

Her passion for magitronics was soon eclipsed by Chariot and her deep red eyes and silky hair, as Croix became ever more protective of Chariot.

And ever closer and closer to the dazzling French witch.

Barely a year had passed and Croix’s deepening, burning passion for Chariot overwhelmed her nerves and hesitation, forcing her into a position to lay everything out on the line and risk everything between them. This was after numerous attempts at flirtation, each one of which eroded at Croix’s self-esteem as the dense – or unsure – Chariot refused to give any sign but the worst in the lilac-haired witch’s teal eyes.

This led to a nervous, blushing and stuttering Croix that could not look into Chariot’s fiery, burgundy eyes as she confessed to the Frenchwoman. Croix would instead look to the side at her pointy red hair which would split off in healthy strands, not a frazzle in them, that would shine in whatever sunlight graced them. Croix was not sure what settled her the most in that instance...

Was it those lovely red locks which had such a unique, individual look to them?

Or was it when Chariot nodded her head with a bouncy giggle, accepting her offer for a date at one of the ice-cream cafés in town?

Regardless of the answer it had settled Croix’s mind, filling her with renewed, powerful confidence. As every minute of the date went by, as every moment of grazed pecks and stolen kisses occurred, and every day or deep, personal interaction took place, Croix’s newly found confidence would grow stronger and stronger. It made her forget her troubles and anxieties, and all the stresses that landed on her young shoulders.

So much so that her deep desire to become a name that everyone would remember would be overwhelmed by her increasing desire for Chariot. Croix knew that it was a little unhealthy to become so fascinated and enthralled by the witch and would try to keep her distance when she could, taking things calm and slow in order to allow Chariot to pursue her own ventures and the few friends she had.

Occasionally they would clash with light and heavy arguments, one of which would eventually boil down into a solitary night between the two. A night where Croix could grasp those red hairs in her hand in need and desperation, watching it become slightly sleek with exertion and sweat.

And when it all died down, and all was said and done, when the two would embrace in a cuddle that would last through the night, Croix could always stare down just a little to see nothing but beautiful, racy red.

Red. Vibrant, shoulder length, red locks. That was what captivated Croix, and that was the colour she loved.

Even after the two grew heated and distant.

Their futures, while similar in some ways, were always bound to clash against one another. While both went against tradition, one for the show and another for the future, Croix was always keen to emphasise how useful her area of expertise was against Chariot’s dreams of performing. Sometimes it would be a playful jibe, but other times not so much. It would leave them feeling tense and on edge, pushing their trust to the limit.

But then the Claiomh Solais came into play.

Or rather the “Shiny Rod”.

Croix was always bitter that Chariot was chosen above her. Her bitterness had immediately intensified when she found that she could not even interact with it. That particular moment scarred her, and cemented something within her that would not budge for years upon years. But as Chariot trembled at Croix’s seething rant, the lilac-haired witch found that she could not be angry at her Chariot for long. Her watery red eyes settled her down and helped push the bitterness away, even if it was for a few moments.

As she went to hug her, consoling her and apologising, Croix promised to help the aspiring witch in her task. To revive magic was Croix’s goal to begin with; to see the desire rise in Chariot made her hopeful, and feel even closer. Truly, now, they shared the same goals, and it allowed Croix to swallow her pride and disdain.

At least for a time.

As the words became harder and harder to find and unlock, and Chariot became more invested in her performing - shortening the time between the two more and more - Croix began to feel a sense of solitude. She felt rattled, lonely and increasingly aggrieved, and Croix felt like she could do nothing to remedy it.

Croix could not help but feel the bubble of jealously course through her. But she kept quiet, at least as much as she could, and nodded and smiled in those fewer and fewer moments of interaction and adventure.

Slowly but surely, those red locks and burgundy eyes represented something that Croix could not reach, something that would boil at her stomach. She tried her best to channel that anger and loneliness into something she felt was positive: progressing further with her studies and working harder on magitronics. She delved deeper into her research, finding every scrap of information she could – ancient or not.

Then she found the Dream Fuel Spirit.

And her bitterness took over.

Croix concocted her scheme and successfully manoeuvred her exploitation of Chariot’s dream. Deep down she knew it was wrong, and a few layers above she justified herself, thinking that Chariot would not mind when she was told. Even that was used to justify herself, with Croix constantly promising herself that she would tell Chariot, even as she secretly smirked at the pettiness of her actions.

At the revenge she felt she was taking.

It did not stop her stomach from churning.

And when the truth did come out? In some weird, surreal bout of anger and jealously? That churning stomach became heavy and nauseous. Croix tried to brush those feelings off, as well as those watering, heartbroken burgundy eyes, but she could never forget what had happened that night after the show.

She stayed on by her side at a distance, checking up on her from time to time.

When Chariot vanished off the map after the Shiny Rod had crumbled in her arms, all Croix could see in her dreams were her dull, broken red eyes, and red hair that was matted and dirty.

Over the years Croix tried to rid herself of her obsession with the colour red. It clung at her like a newborn baby, desperate for validation and protection from the mind trying to lock it away. Even at her ‘strongest’ moments, when she had not thought of Chariot or her locks for a whole week, her subconscious would always fail her.

A red gem here.

A red flower there.

A red cloak for her wardrobes.

Or, more accurately, for her clutching arms and her wet cheeks.

In the end, Croix tried to hold on to what she could have of Chariot. As much as she tried to repress it, she could not help but keep those memories of their firsts: Their first meeting to their first date, their first kiss to their first time. It was ingrained in her, and she could never shake that off, nor the true and honest words they had spoken to each other in their closest and most distant of moments.

But Croix had grown up now.

She was a young woman with a full raft of credentials behind her, a revolutionary plan and a brand new look. She had matured, she would say to herself, and had one firm goal in mind: revolutionise magic with the future.

But her spite said otherwise.

It was not just that. It never was. It did not take her long to figure out that Chariot had gone to Luna Nova as a teacher, now disguised under a different name and some shades. The black and white newspaper showed that, the glasses barely able to hide those distinctive red eyes away from the camera and Croix’s analytical teal orbs. Her mind had filled in the colour.

And her mind become deathly, sickeningly curious.

Croix could not help but dispatch her little bots to spy on Chariot and the school, to find out any pieces of information she could find that could help her. When the first parts of data came in, she learned of how she could use the tower as a base of operations to store and advance her project. She found out that some dumb, immature brunette had gotten a hold of the Claiomh Solais, and that she could be easily manipulated over her love for Shiny Chariot.

Even saying the title made her shiver in disgust.

But when her last little black and red box returned to her that night, her stomach did backflips.

‘ _She’s changed her hair...’_ Croix had thought incredulously, her mouth agape and her heart beating fast. Gone was those distinctive pointy spikes and curves, as well as the deep red that shined in the light of the sun and the moon. What had replaced it was long, flowing locks that stretched down her back, graced with a deep blue that pulled in the audience.

That audience being Croix herself.

It matched the dark blue sky of night, a contrast to the red evenings and mornings that graced the world every day; that once graced Croix as she woke up at the crack of dawn and settled down in the bustle of the evening.

She sat at her desk for hours looking at all that data, all those pictures. A part of her felt wrong for doing so, it was weird and not at all normal, but she could not help but stare and drink it in.

She swallowed.

And then she went to bed.

Tomorrow was the day her plan would start, true and proper.

Though as it progressed, she began to lose sight of it from time to time. A success here and there, a setback easily conquered when it appeared, Croix would end up drifting into analytical stupors or obsessed, fantastical comas filled with blue hair and red eyes obscured by teachers’ glasses. It was unhealthy, Croix knew it.

She always did.

But she could not shake it off.

Croix’s encounters with ‘Ursula’ became more common place, as did her meetings and brushes with her favourite student ‘Akko’. A part of her envied the connection the student and teacher had, and dark thoughts played with her as her jealously cemented itself in her mind. Whenever Croix came across Akko she would hear nothing but gushing over Shiny Chariot, mixed in with the odd bemoaning of the Cavendish heir. It was insufferable to Croix that the blue-haired majesty would divert so much attention to Akko and her quest for the seven words.

It made Croix ever more bitter and frustrated, pushing her into something extreme in order to garner Chariot's true, undivided attention. To let her know that she meant everything she said and planned – absolutely everything - and the magitronic scientist was not to be ignored or doubted any more.

It made Croix do something she would always, always regret.

Croix was never sure if Chariot ever really forgave nearly getting her killed.

But Croix was certain that those angry, protective red eyes would never forgive her for nearly killing Akko. No matter what she said.

It was a moment of weakness for Croix. It was so complete and utter that she not only broke character but went beyond even her darkest and most depraved of jealously-fuelled dreams. As much as Croix was able to brush off what had happened, after a brief moment of her twisted character slipping, she could not stop herself from dreaming about those half-lidded, surrendering red eyes that fell from such a deadly height.

And the long, dark blue hair that flapped and fluttered around the fast moving air.

Blue. Deep, mysterious flowing locks of blue. That was what haunted Croix now, and what impassioned her.

Those nightmares of blue would plague her for nights on end, never ceasing, and even after everything had been said and done, and Chariot’s hair had swapped from colour to colour in fits of magical rage and broken states. Seeing her mature face transform from serious to soft dazzled Croix, even as she watched her dreams fail and succeed all at the same time. Her eyes were always the same; a kind of red-ish blue in darker light, but distinctively a deep red when the flecks and flickers of green magic showered them like snow.

But her hair?

Croix was not sure.

Would Chariot be Chariot again? Or return to being this ‘Ursula’ that seemed to captivate her? Rightly or wrongly, that long, flowing blue hair had awakened something within her, something that made her do things that were simply not right. Croix could not put her finger on it though.

Croix figured that it may have been down to Chariot hiding her identity, which prompted a series of emotions with her: Anger, concern, even a streak of competitiveness? Could she bring the old Chariot back? Or was the old Chariot lost forever, replaced by this ‘Ursula’? It made her angry that Chariot would be so ashamed of herself, but also deeply concerned for the emotions that must have been swirling in her mind to make such a decision, likely influenced by Croix’s own actions.

Regardless, the colour blue had cemented itself in her mind from then on out, and it was never going to go away.

So when the two were returning to Chariot’s quarters after the incident, a place for Croix to be held before the authorities would drag her out of Luna Nova, the lilac-haired witch could not help but stare at the messy, matted long locks that adorned Chariot.

And how they kept changing from red to blue all the way there.

Chariot was already incredibly nervous, it being her idea to bring the disgraced Croix to her room for the rest of the evening and night. But it was quite clear that the constant change in colour ran far deeper than a sheer fear of her identity being discovered.

Simply, Chariot was not comfortable with who she was, and she simply could not decide.

It was clear for Croix to see and it made her heart ache. Her stomach twisted as her fascination with those colours continued to morph into darker and heavier things. To think that such a thing could do so much to the pair was daunting, regardless of how. But to see Chariot struggling to accept herself even now?

That hurt. A lot.

Everyone close to her knew, as did everyone that cared. Chariot had finally accomplished her goal of unlocking all the words and reviving magic, even if it was through a sixteen year old girl, a Cavendish heir and their closest friends. Even despite the best efforts of Croix to do it her own way, without ancient magic and the machinations of Woodward, and while trying to get them all killed in the process.

She shook her head as she walked, wishing the world would swallow her whole to rid it of her existence. She felt ashamed of herself, but she felt that was right. She deserved what was coming to her, and she did not deserve Chariot’s hospitality. Not after everything.

“We’re nearly there.”

Yet...

Chariot’s voice was comforting and quiet, but it hitched with that nervousness that was so apparent in her fluctuating locks of hair. It was apparent that she was trying to calm Croix down, as if sensing or simply knowing that the lilac-haired woman was a mess right now. However, whether she knew all the reasons was anyone’s guess.

Given it might be the last time in a while that Croix could even interact with Chariot, she felt it best to eventually reveal them. She knew she had a lot of explaining to do, and she gathered that Chariot would appreciate hearing it.

“Mhmm...” Croix hummed, acknowledging what Chariot had said moments ago after a few awkward, silent seconds. The bustle from within the academy was growing more echoed and distant, with only the spiking sounds of shoes hitting stone really present. After a dozen or so seconds the pair reached the entrance to Chariot’s converted observatory, the old and dark wooden door already open from Chariot’s rushing earlier in the day.

Croix closed the door behind them, using her hands instead of her wand as she had given it to Chariot earlier in a show of surrender. Chariot had been anxious to accept it, but seeing the wavy lips of the lilac-haired, troubled witch forced her to concede and take hold of the magical device.

The walked up the stairs slowly, heavily, both looking at the stairs rather than where they were going. They were exhausted, mentally and physically. It had not only been a long day, or a long week. Nor had it been a long few months.

No... It had been a long decade and more.

Maybe tonight things could be resolved. Maybe, at least, something could be clearer. A path could be established, a way into forgiveness, before the two parted once again.

It was going to be _such_ a long time away from her Chariot again.

Croix cringed at the selfish thought, the possessive streak within her rearing its head once again for no good reason. She looked up, seeing that Chariot’s hair had returned to that deep shade of blue once more.

A spike of pain hit Croix’s heart again. Was she really that weary around her? It felt stupid to ponder it, given all that Croix had done, but she could not help it. All the blue did was remind her of her mistreatment of Chariot, as well as her selfish and bitter feelings. It was everything Croix had stood against, and everything she despised of this new, damaged Chariot.

But as Chariot entered her room, pausing at the door to let Croix in before closing it, Croix could not help but feel that the blue suited her so well.

Maybe Chariot treated her change of hair as a fresh start, as something new in the journey of her hectic, fraught life. Perhaps it was a more honest display of herself to those who knew who she was, displaying how she felt of her past self and actions, and how much she wanted to change.

Did it allow her to be someone new? To still be honest with herself despite her secrecy?

“I have some water in the fridge, Croix.” Chariot suddenly spoke out at the door clicked shut, her voice firm yet shaky, the ex-performer still nervous over the coming conversation. “Just grab the bottle and sit down, please.” Chariot said, requesting two things at once. Croix swallowed again, not used to this still direct, but less hostile ‘Ursula’.

“Yeah...” Croix acknowledged, nodding her head and walking slowly towards the small, white refrigerator at the far end of the workstation. Chariot watched on wearily, herself unsure, brushing the bottom of her blue hair which she had grabbed hold of. She glanced down, looking at the slightly dirty strands with a pained expression, as if perturbed by its existence.

‘ _Why...’_ Chariot thought to herself, questioning her unease over such a thing. She kept stroking the fluctuating ends of her hair, it lighting up with fiery red at moments before becoming a settled, deep blue the next, unaware of the time passing as she eyed it. Croix had long finished grabbing the bottle of flavoured mineral water, and had taken the time to look on at the display in front of her instead of walking to the messy bed.

Chariot’s troubled stare unsettled Croix further, churning her stomach more and making her throat feel tight and clammy. It was so unnerving to see Chariot flip between emotions so quickly, forcing through and breaking façades within the same minute. An urge to speak grew inside her, to do anything to comfort her.

Or at least tell the truth. Just for once.

“I used to hate that new hair of yours.”

Chariot’s head snapped up, startled by the sudden noise ahead of her, the rough voice of her old best friend reverberating in her ears. She could barely respond to it.

“Wh... what?” Chariot said, her voice just as croaky and hoarse as Croix’s. They could barely look each other in the eye, the adrenaline of the moment having long gone and their psyches reduced to something timid and frightened.

“The blue...” Croix said, pausing before describing what she meant. “It was so different, the complete opposite of what you had before.” She paused again, wetting her lips and clearing her throat. “It wasn’t just that... it just lost its character.” Chariot was still confused as Croix struggled to get out her words, unable to keep up with the constant breaks.

“What... do you mean, Croix?” Chariot asked, her voice wobbly and unsure. Croix frowned, trying to find better words to use.

“Your hair used to be so vibrant and unique, full of character and enthusiasm.” Croix described, reminiscing on what her closest of friends used to have atop her head. When Chariot giggled, her hand moving to cover her smiling mouth, Croix felt the air in her lungs escape. Her mind blank and in the moment, she was sure it was the first time she heard such lovely tones in years.

“Enthusiastic?” Chariot said, her hand moving away to show her soft, almost sad smile. Croix shook her head.

“You know what I mean!” Croix spoke a little louder, feeling teased and slightly taken aback. She was just not used to this, as much as she enjoyed the quick change in tone. Chariot hummed, slowly removing her smile to replace it with something more neutral. Croix continued.

“Like, it had so much character... it was so distinct. Spiky, bright; it would shine in the light you know?” Croix said in a distant ramble, as if she was talking only to herself.

“I know, but-” Chariot’s unsteady words were interrupted before she could really speak them.

“You wanted to get away from your past, I know...” Croix said, sure that she was correct. When Chariot said nothing, confirming her assumption, Croix continued. “But... gah.” At least she tried to.

“What is it?” Chariot asked, keen to hear Croix’s thought. The Latin witch looked away, her features now completely lacking any kind of confidence, laced with the lightest of blushes. “Go on...” Chariot encouraged, a small smile returning to her lips as she anticipated the reply.

“Ugh, I loved it okay?” Croix bemoaned the position she forced herself into, grimacing at the sappiness of it. “It’s so damn cheesy but, it’s the one thing I always remembered and cherished about you, even when I tried to forget, or felt angry.” Croix could not even look at Chariot now as her voice became ever more strained and her words ever more broken with embarrassment. But Chariot giggled again.

“That’s... so sweet.” Chariot said, her smile still present. “You tended to get sappy sometimes, it was really endearing.” As Chariot reminisced herself, Croix turned to face her, blushing and stuttering as she tried to fight back, further caught out by the bright look on her old friends face.

“Well, yeah, but... that’s not the point!” Croix spoke loudly again, trying to get back to what she had meant. “You were burying such an amazing part of you, I couldn’t stand it!” Her voice was still relatively loud, but quieter than her fluster a moment ago. Chariot’s smile lessened a little and her brow firmed up, nodding in appreciation of the seriousness of what Croix was trying to say.

“I... like the long hair... but I hated the blue so much.” Croix said honestly, glancing to the side again as she struggled to look into those strong red eyes. “It represented everything that was wrong with you, more so than your new name.” As Croix made her confession, she could not help but feel intensely guilty over her words. Her display of honesty was revealing so much and it made her feel so utterly insecure, and she was terrified that Chariot would react terribly.

When she heard nothing, after a few more seconds, she forced herself to look into the eyes of her former lover. What Croix saw stunned her. Despite her childish, petty and dreamy thoughts and words, all she saw was a smiling Chariot, her head slightly tilted to the side as she soaked in the display.

Chariot could not help but feel it was so familiar.

Chariot could remember the times where Croix would be so honest, be it kindly or brutally. She could remember the times where Croix would suddenly become so romantic, taking her out to sappy dates and buying her strawberry chocolates. Even when Croix was bitter, bemoaning the lack of progress within magical society, it would always settle Chariot. As long as she was honest and had someone to go to vent, Chariot would always feel content with whatever Croix would say, knowing it was always the truth.

It was always, simply, uniquely _Croix_.

“Chariot?”

Chariot snapped out of her short remembrance, gasping silently as she heard the rattled voice of her most intimate of friends.

“Sorry, I just... enjoy you being so honest with me.” Chariot admitted, shrugging her shoulder and looking away herself. Croix frowned in confusion, placing the bottle onto the narrow kitchen worktop.

“Really? Even this?” Croix asked, surprised and unsure.

“Yes... it’s better than you continuing to pretend.”

Croix nodded at this, easily picking up the implication of the past few months. She felt odd to be so settled by it, but passed it off as something more positive.

It was nice that the two could once again say so little, yet understand so much.

“I’m sorry.” Croix said, quietly, her eyes covered by her lilac hair as she looked down. Chariot hummed.

“I know, but it’s fine.” Chariot said, trying to assure Croix. But the Italian could not accept it. She shook her head, it darting up to look directly into Chariot’s burgundy orbs.

“No it’s not! I nearly got everyone killed!” Croix shouted, aggrieved that her apology was accepted so easily. Chariot shook her head, dismissing it.

“But no-one did, and you weren’t yourself.” Chariot said, explaining why she answered as such. Still, Croix would not budge. She was completely obstinate to the thought of Chariot brushing away what she had done.

“That doesn’t excuse it, Char!” Croix exclaimed, her voice breaking as she spoke the nickname of one of her most cherished persons.

A person she could not help but hurt.

But Chariot seemed to have a far bigger heart than Croix could ever have known or even guessed. The professor shook her head softly, her eyes closed for the moment she did so, opening only to stare directly and deeply into the magictronic scientist.

“Of course not, but I _forgive_ you.”

Croix could not believe it.

“How?! I didn’t just nearly kill you, you know..?” Croix was incredulous. She just could not accept what Chariot had just said, what she had just proclaimed so easily. It simply did not sound right to the Italian, and Chariot could pick up the deep unease and heavy refusal from her friend.

“Yes... you’re right, that’s difficult to accept...” Chariot began, being slow and steady in order for Croix to digest her carefully spoken words. “But Croix... I know you. Hell, I _saw_ it in your eyes.” She countered herself, remembering the Croix of the past. Chariot remembered the time before the Shiny Rod, before their destinies became clear and their lives were thrown into such deep importance.

“That was not _you_.”

Croix shook her head. She looked away and crossed her arms, her mouth open and her eyes wide. She could not believe the attitude that Chariot had, not believing that after everything that happened that this dazzling, strong witch could do this.

“How _do_ you do this?” Croix said, almost speaking to herself as she tried to process the complicated woman trying to console her. Chariot hummed.

“Hmm?”

Croix turned her gaze back to her former lover.

“Just... forgive and forget like that?” It was an honest question laced as a slight critique. It felt wrong to Croix that someone could forgive so easily, and seemingly forget all their past actions. But Chariot allayed some of her fears.

“I don’t forget Croix, silly...” Chariot hummed a quick laugh, shaking her head. “Maybe I can't forgive everything, but... I just try to look to the future.” She returned her gaze to Croix, another small, sympathetic smile on her face. Croix’s frown remained, but had morphed into something equally as sympathetic.

“Is that why you changed yourself so much?” Croix said, her voice unsure, wincing as the words escaped her.

“Maybe...” Chariot replied, trailing off and concerning Croix as she did so. Croix immediately thought she went too far, too personal. It was her that needed the probing and analysis, not Chariot. But...

“Perhaps I should change back?”

“Huh..?” Chariot’s sudden, timid reply snapped Croix out of her mini-panic, focusing her attention on the slightly shuffling Chariot.

“For you...”

As she spoke and finished, her deep blue, long locks transformed into a fiery red. The flames travelled up slowly and methodically, as if they were concentrating. As the red flames travelled upwards and settled down into the vibrant red that Croix could remember so vividly, there were parts of her hair that spiked and curled ever so slightly. It was as if those rebellious strands were being set free from the emotional prison that Chariot had placed them in.

Croix swallowed again, a part of her guilty...

But also reluctant.

“You don’t have to...” Croix said as last bit of blue atop Chariot’s head vanished under a sea of bright, unforgettable red. “I... adore both.”

“Really?”

Croix’s stuttering admittance was a surprise for Chariot, who had just heard all the wrong the blue represented. She was deeply curious as to why that was the case. Croix helped sate some of that curiosity.

“Yeah... the blue has its own charm.” Croix began, looking away again, a light blush covering her face once more. Her voice was wobbly as she continued. “It’s just as distinctive. It still matches your eyes, and I love how flowing your locks are.” Croix was still looking away, but she could not help but turn her head when she heard those sweet giggles escape from the Frenchwoman.

“’Locks’ huh?” Chariot teased, her smile even wider. Croix blushed more heavily, turning to face Chariot. Her hands gripped tightly onto her still crossed arms.

“Shush.”

“Heh.” Chariot let out the last little bit of her giggling laughter, her features softening further as a tender thought crossed her mind. “But Croix?” She asked.

“Yeah?” Croix said, hearing the call of her name.

“You know what Blue and Red make, don’t you, right?” Chariot questioned Croix, her voice level but full of something deeper and more intimate.

“...” Of course Croix knew the answer to the question, but she let Chariot say it anyway.

“It makes Purple.”

Croix hummed her own throaty giggle.

“...and you complain to me about being sappy.” Now it was Croix’s turn to tease as she spoke her words haughtily, shaking her head and unwrapping her arms, bringing her hands to grip her dirty, dusty pants. Chariot grinned.

“Sure... but at least I can stop myself from blushing so much.”

The pair laughed for a few moments, shaking their heads and giving each other strange looks. They appeared reminiscent again, and the scale of how much they missed each other was completely apparent in their longing, loving gazes.

Croix grabbed the bottle and walked over to the bed, as Chariot had requested time ago. She undid the lid of the bottle, taking a gentle swig of the watermelon-tasting mineral water before sitting down on the end of the bed. Chariot followed her, walking over to sit beside the lilac-haired witch, who then offered the bottle to her. Chariot took it eagerly, bringing the bottle top to her lips and greedily drinking in the refreshing liquid.

Croix could not help but glare at those chapped, red lips. There was a little cut on her bottom lip, gained through the battle they had just had; between themselves and Croix’s own magical instruments. Chariot eventually noticed Croix’s observant looks, and decided to tease her with a little wink, darting her eyes back and forth to the top of the bottle.

It was so childish, but Croix could not help but giggle and shake her head, bemused that Chariot point out such a silly, indirect thing.

“Even after everything, you’re such a tease.” Croix said, humour in her voice and memories in her words.

“And even after everything, you could never get over that red cape of mine.”

“Hah...” That hit harder than Croix thought it would, and her right hand came to rub the top of her left arm. She looked straight ahead, thinking of all the things she had collected over the years that reminded her of Chariot.

“Where did it even go?” Chariot then asked, nearly making Croix jump as she snapped out of her little think and realised she lacked that part of her clothing.

“Oh, the cape?” Croix said, looking around pointlessly, almost on instinct. When she could not see it, she sighed wearily. “I must have lost it back there... ah.” Another sigh escaped her, this time more regretful. She made a noise, grimacing as she let the loss get to her. It must have been more important to her than she thought, revealing to her how much her subconscious obsessed over the silly little colour.

“Well then...” Chariot said suddenly, getting up from the edge of the bed. She walked to the side of it, carefully falling onto her knees before seemingly fishing something out from underneath the bed. A small “Ah!” eventually rang out, and Croix could not help but look over at what Chariot was doing.

Chariot then darted up, revealing her ruffled red hair and wide eyes. It was almost comical, as she looked like a scared rabbit peeking out of its burrow. She stood up quickly and then revealed her old Shiny Chariot costume, something she kept for the memories but hid away for her safetyand her peace of mind. She then started to fiddle with the back, and when Croix heard the sound of buttons undoing, she spoke out in almost frightened voice.

“No!” She rejected. “No, you don’t have to-” Croix’s rejection was quickly cut off.

“I insist.” Chariot said, undoing the last button and gently passing the old red cape to Croix. “And besides...” She was not yet finished though, and suddenly the tips of her hair turned that professional, depressed shade of blue. She reached for her wand, and a little spark of green magical energy shone from it. “It would be incomplete without this...”

Chariot then used the wand to cut away a small bundle of blue hair, gripping it tightly so it would not escape. Croix could not close her mouth as Chariot used her wand to levitate and bring forward a small little box. As the old, wooden instrument landed between her free fingers, it decorated with engraved floral designs, she let her wand slip onto the floor, allowing her to fully grip onto it.

She then opened it with her thumb and placed the bundle of hair inside it, and then placed it on Croix’s lap. The Latin witch could barely speak, fully focused on the box and the cape resting on her legs and knees.

“...I.” Was all Croix could mutter. Chariot hummed.

“Mmm?”

Teal eyes crossed paths with red ones.

“I’ll bring it back to you... along with a cure.” Croix promised, swallowing again as her hands gripped the items. Chariot nodded.

“Don’t rush, please...” She insisted. “Just make sure you can come back as soon as you can.” Chariot’s voice wobbled as it sank in again that Croix would be gone for another large stretch of time. “I can’t have you gone for another ten years.”

“Don’t worry Chari... I promise.”

As Croix watched those watery red eyes be slowly hidden, and her hair flicker between red and blue, Croix could not help but fall in love with those colours. One again, and another for the first time.

Either way, it felt like the beginning of a fresh start.

She just could not wait to start it proper.

**Author's Note:**

> bwah
> 
> Hopefully you liked that X) The Charoix dynamic is fun to explore and wok with, and I kinda like what I can do with it. I really enjoyed writing this and hope y'all enjoyed reading it! Please let me know what ya think, pop a kudos and let me know if you want more Charoix content or oneshots in general (regardless of rating). See ya soon!


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